


I've Got Friends in Low Places

by Turquoise54



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: 2P England - Freeform, 2p America - Freeform, 2p Canada - Freeform, 2p China - Freeform, 2p Italy - Freeform, F/M, Fan-fiction, Literature, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4001548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turquoise54/pseuds/Turquoise54
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[2p! Hetalia x Reader]</p>
<p>[Name] never expected to leave. In fact, she quite liked the mental institution and all it had to offer her, and people like her. But unfortunately, her views changed the day she met Egil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You were told there would be a new arrival to the asylum. You were not told, however, that he would be rooming with you. So maybe that's why you were so confused to find someone in bright blue and pink clothes sitting in Room 7.

"Hello there poppet," he said when you entered the room. "My name's Oliver, and I was told I would be staying with you."

The look you gave him must of shown how confused you were, because he continued with saying, "This is room 7, right?" he asked you. "Occupied by [Name]?"

You nodded and Oliver smiled. "So you must be [Name]." you nodded again, and his smile widened. The grin made you think of the Cheshire Cat. "Wonderful, for a second I thought they brought me to the wrong room, but of course I shouldn't have thought that. Obviously they would know their own facility, if they didn't imagine how much hectic this place could be."

You tilted your head to the side. Egil hadn't talked to you nearly as much as this man. He had spent most of his time trying to kill that puffin on his shoulder, or yelling at it.

You blinked before making your way over to your cot before sitting down on it. You turned your head and looked at Oliver, he had stopped talking and merely watched you. Still grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Uh, goodnight, Oliver," you told him before laying down on the cot. You turned over and faced the wall before closing your eyes.

"Goodnight poppet."

_We don't like him. You should tell him to leave._

You frowned but ignored the voice, choosing to sleep rather than argue with voices in your head.


	2. Chapter 2

You sat at one of the many lunch tables in large cafeteria. Not finding yourself hungry you began to play with the food on your tray, poking holes and plowing it, making the food look like a farmer's field.

You heard a set of boots walk toward you and you looked up. Oliver was standing in front of you, his own tray in his hands. You turned your attention back to your food and resumed poking holes in it.

Oliver took this as you saying it was okay for him to sit with you, so he sat. "Did you know that they have Baking Therapy?" he asked you excitedly. You looked up from your tray of food. Oliver was smiling like the Cheshire Cat again, and his eyes were watching you.

"No," you replied to him before turning your attention back to your tray.

"Really? Well, that doesn't matter. What does matter is that they have Baking Therapy!" he squealed. "Oh I don't know what I would've done if I wasn't able to make cupcakes!" He sighed happily, staring off at something on the ceiling, before his gaze slid back to you. "I could make you a cupcake if you'd like, poppet."

You nodded, and Oliver continued speaking.

"The class doesn't start till after lunch, and doesn't end till about the time they take us outside for exercise." he paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "Hey [Name], do you know what they do with the baked goods after we make them?"

"Theodore said they save them till Friday, where they give them to us to eat," you replied. "Or, at least that's what he told me."

"But poppet, didn't you just tell me you didn't know they had Baking Therapy?"

"I did," you said, standing to put away your tray of uneaten food. What you didn't say was that you weren't talking to him, but to the voices.

_We say leave him. We do not think you should befriend him. We want you to stay away from him._

You frowned, but chose to ignore the voice again.

_You trust him because you think he can replace Egil. But we think that you are being foolish. We warned you about Egil, and we are now warning you about this one. Why won't you listen to us?_


	3. Chapter 3

"How many more days till Friday, poppet?" Oliver asked you. Both of you were inside your shared room, you sitting on your bed with your legs pulled up to your chest, and him sitting on the floor next to your bed watching you.

"Three more days, not counting today," you told him, your eyes glued to your shoe laces. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just wondering," he replied, a private smile on his face. "What's your favorite flavor?"

"I like [favorite flavor]." you said, your gaze turned to him, your chin still resting on your knees. "Why do you want to know?"

"I told you I was going to make you a cupcake, didn't I?" he replied, the private smile on his lips widening. "And to make you a cupcake, I need to know your favorite flavor."

Your gaze slid back to your shoe laces at his reply. "You could of made the cupcake any flavor, it wouldn't have mattered."

"Ah, but then it wouldn't have been a cupcake made for you," Oliver said, standing. "And yours, I don't want anyone else eating."

~*0*~

You sat down at your usual lunch table, placing your tray of food in front of you.

"Hey, [Name]," someone whispered. "Psst. [Name]!"

"What?" you turned to the noise. Jenny was standing next to you, her hand held against the side of her mouth, stopping people from trying to read her lips.

"Did you notice the new guard?" she asked, motioning with a small jerk of her head to someone standing at one of the cafeterias doors. The guard had reddish-brown hair, and he looked to be wearing sunglasses. "He looks pretty sexy, don't cha think?" she winked at you before walking off.

You watched her leave, a confused look on your face.

"Hey [Name]!" You turned your attention to Oliver, who was taking his seat at the lunch table. "How many days till Friday, poppet?"

"Two," you told him, glancing back at the new guard.

_Things are going to spiral down hill from here. Back out. Leave him. Please. He's only going to bring you trouble. Please [Name]! Please! We're begging you! LISTEN TO US!_

You pressed your hands against your ears, trying to drown out the screaming voices inside your head.

"[Name]? Are you all right poppet?" Oliver questioned, his voice sounding concerned.

Through the noise going on through your head you managed to hear him, and reply with a small nod.

_WHY WON'T YOU LISTEN TO US?! WHY?!_


	4. Chapter 4

Reaching for a cupcake with bright red icing, you were startled when Oliver spoke.

"Oh no, you don't want  _that_ cupcake."

You turned your head to look at him, confused. Your hand hovered over the bright red cupcake, unsure of what to do. Oliver smiled brightly at you before leaning over and moving your hand till it was above a baby blue iced cupcake. "You should take this one instead."

Raising an eyebrow in a questioning manner, you did as he said and grabbed the baked dessert. Placing it on your tray you turned and headed toward your usual lunch table, Oliver following.

You sat down and the smiling male took the seat across from you. "What day is it today, poppet?" he asked you, sounding excited.

"Friday..." you replied.

"Yessss! I've waited all week for today!" his grin widened. "Oh we're going to have so much fun today!" Oliver stared at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to confirm his words.

"Yeah, fun, whoohoo." you said, slowly taking the wrapper off your cupcake. Halfway through taking the paper off someone screamed.

The sound froze your hands, and both you and Oliver's heads turned toward the direction the noise had come from.

Lily, whom you recognized from the few times you had seen her, was leaning away from her tray. She was staring with wide eyes at a cupcake with bright blue and pink icing. She screamed and pointed at the dessert, leaning so far away that she fell off the lunch table's seat.

Now on the floor she backed away on her hands. Her mouth was open and she was yelling as she moved away from the iced cupcake. "GET IT AWAY!" she screamed. "GET THAT DISGUSTING PEICE OF BREAD AWAY FROM ME!"

Everyone was shocked, Lily loved cupcakes. Some of the guards and doctors moved in. They grabbed Lily's arms and dragged her out of the cafeteria.

When the double doors swished behind her, blocking out any more of her screams, the cafeteria erupted into murmurs and whispers.

"...the cupcake maybe?"

"No.... she was going to snap eventually."

"....it didn't happen sooner."

"I wonder what's going to happen to her now..."

You stared at the swinging double doors, still in shock. Your cupcake sat uneaten on your tray, it's paper wrapping halfway off.

~*0*~

You were abruptly awoken from sleep by screaming. You jolted upright in your bed, staring at the door, where the noise was coming from. You turned your head in the direction of Oliver's bed, only to find it empty.

There was a loud thump from the direction of the door, followed by pounding and someone screaming: "Let me in! Let me in!" the voice sounded like Jenny's

You inhaled sharply. Getting out of the bed slowly and quietly you moved to one of corners farthest from the door. Meanwhile the pounding grew harder and more frantic. "Let me in! They'll kill me! PLEASE!"

You crouched in the corner, your hands pressed over your ears. The yelling continued, and with it the sounds of others screaming and running. The shouting at your door grew louder, as did the pounding, till it was cut off midway by a distinct  _thump_.

You pressed yourself against the wall, your eyes closed.

_It'll only get worse....._

You lay down on the floor, turning so that your back faced the door. Staring at the cheery yellow walls making up room 7, you felt sick. The sound of footsteps walking away from the door didn't reach you, so you guessed that whoever had killed Jenny was still standing there. But why?

_Waiting....._


	5. Chapter 5

You curled up into ball, pulling your knees closer to your chest. Voices reached your ears, and there was grunting, followed by the sound of a door being broken open. The door to room 7, perhaps?

_They're here....._

The sound of footsteps grew ever closer, and you flinched when the were right next to you. A moment later, pain seeped in from a place in your skull, your vision began to fade. You slipped into unconsciousness a second later.

~*0*~

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself laying in bed, surrounded by pale blue colored walls. But the walls in Room 7 were yellow, not blue.

_I must not be at the mental institute, then._ you thought.

You tried to sit up, but stopped when your head began to pound. You winced, raising your hand to your head. You touched your skull gently, afraid that too much pressure would make the pain worse. Your fingertips found a small bump, but nothing more, and you let your hand fall back into your lap.

You stared at your hands for awhile, your mind blank.

_I hope I don't have a concussion._ you thought. The sound of a door opening made you look up, and you saw Oliver there, holding a glass of water, and something else his hands blocked you from seeing.

When he saw you, a look of relief made its way to his face. "I'm glad to see your awake."

You stared back at him, unsure of how to feel at seeing him again. Angry? Maybe, he did just kill everyone at the institution. Happy? Perhaps, you did begin to consider him a friend while he was rooming with you.

But then again, the last person you had befriended left you, and never came back like he promised.....

Eventually, you nod your head, not wanting to seem rude.

_Why are you worried about manners!_

You cringed. The voices were back, and they seemed angry, very angry. Why? It's not your fault you were kidnapped.

_Oh, you really think that, don't you? Well, we do not agree. We told you leave him alone. We suggested to keep away. But you didn't listen._

"I have something for your headache."  Oliver said, now standing beside you. He placed the water on the bedside table, and handed you the pills he held.

You nodded your head again and swallowed the aspirin before reaching over and taking the glass of water.

_We only want what's best for you! We only suggest what will help! We are not angry though, if that's what you think. We could never be angry at you. Just upset._

Oliver sat in chair near the bed and watched you. After a long silence as you placed the now empty glass back on the table, he spoke. "Why aren't you talking to me, poppet? Are you mad?"

You kept quiet, and didn't reply. Were you mad? You didn't know. You felt many different emotions, and you couldn't decipher which was which.

Oliver seemed to take your silence as an answer, and he stood. You watched as he walked over to the door and opened it, stepping out into the hall. He gave you one last glance before closing the door behind him.

~*0*~

"Stupid puffin. Making me chase him all the way out here." Egil muttered, clenching the knife in his hand tighter. "Why can't he just sit still and let me do away with him? No one would miss him. I certainly won't."

The puffin he was complaining about circled his head, and the male glared up at it. "Taunting me, huh? I'll show you."

The bird tilted it's head to the side in a questioning manner, before flying off in a different direction.

Egil cursed and followed after the puffin, aggravated that the bird wasn't making it easier for him to kill it. Not like he couldn't kill it right then, he just chose not to.


	6. Chapter 6

You glanced down at the ground below you. You had woken up about a few minutes before this, and you were now perched on the window sill, staring down at the earth a story below. Jumping, that was what you were readying yourself for.

_Careful. We don't want you breaking any bones._

The voices whispered, their words a constant reminder as to why you were checked into a mental hospital. "Leave me alone," you muttered. You wiped your palms on your pants, finding them sweaty from the thought of what you would be doing.

_You wouldn't be here if you listened to us._

"Shut up." Your jaw clenched, the words hissing through your teeth. Anxiety bubbled up inside you and the earth below seemed to swim in and out of focus.

_We trust you, why won't you trust us?_

You took a deep breath and allowed your foot to slid forward. At some point during your unconscious state, someone had taken off your shoes, which left you barefooted on the windowsill in a white jumpsuit.

_Don't go back._

You pushed off the the windowsill. For a moment you were falling, and all you could focus on was the pure joy bursting through you for that split second.

It felt so wonderful.

But then you hit the ground.

Pain laced up your side, the edges of your vision blurring. You sucked in a breath, forcing yourself to sit up despite the throb.

You checked yourself over for any broken limbs, but found only bruises and scratches. You sighed, relieved that you had no wounds that would handicap your plan.

The pain in your side ebbed away to a dull ache and you stood, taking a few minutes to dust off the dirt clinging to your person. Your previously white jumpsuit was dusted in dirt and grass, the brown particles clinging to your palms and feet.

_Something is watching you._

You never listened to the voices echoing in your head. But the words that they had spoken resounded in your mind, replaying over and over again in your ears with each passing second, had you frozen.

There was something watching you.

You turned around as fast as you dared. Behind you was darkness, and in it two eyes stared back at you. They flashed in the light from the windows, growing larger as whatever it belonged to moved closer.

~*0*~

Oliver quietly hummed to himself as he stirred the batter of the cupcakes he was making. He was going to give them to [Name] as an apology for something he didn't know he had done.

_I hope she starts talking to me again,_  he thought with a small smile.  _It would be terrible if she stops speaking to me._

The blonde haired man pulled out the wooden spoon he used to stir the batter and grabbed a metal whisk. As he began to whisk the batter, the sharp sound of knocking cut through his humming and relative quietness that had settled over the home.

Oliver peeked out from the doorway of the kitchen, a frown on his face. "Allen!" he called. "Can you get that for me, please?"

A groan replied to his words and Oliver watched as the brunette glared at him from the couch. "Who are ya even expectin'?" the red eyed male asked. "Last time I checked, you were in a mental hospital, ya didn't have time ta plan a visit."

"I was only there for a week." Oliver replied. The blonde returned to the bowl of batter in front of him. "Besides, I planned this weeks in advance."

"Mhm," Allen replied. The brunette shuffled over to the door and proceeded to unlock it. After a moment of the sound of locks clicking and Françios' snoring from the kitchen table the door opened.

In the doorway stood two men, one dressed in a long black overcoat with a red trim and a gray scarf, the other a red Changshan and a black Chinese military cap.

"Is Oliver here?" the one wearing a cap asked. His eyes were an amber color, and his dark brown hair was cut short.

"Yep!" The strawberry blonde quickly wiped his hands on his apron, the cupcakes he had been making in the oven cooking. "Glad you two could make it!"

The one wearing a scarf blinked impassively at the blonde. "I assume you had no trouble escaping?"

Oliver waved his hand dismissively. "Of course not!~ They made that place for humans, not countries."

"We heard you escaped with a parting gift," the amber eyed one said, his eyes taking in the surroundings. "Where is she?"

"Oh, you mean [Name]?" Oliver smiled sweetly, but his hands curled into fists at his sides. News certainly got around fast, they only escaped two days ago. "She's upstairs sleeping off a headache."

"How'd she get stuck there, anyway?" the scarf wearing one asked.

Oliver shrugged. "I'm not sure, Viktor, but my guess is she got put there, like me."

Viktor turned to ask another question, but a shrill scream cut him off. All heads swiveled in the direction of the doorway, where Allen had forgotten to close the door.

The sound of someone running barefooted filled the air, and Oliver watched as [Name], the same [Name] who he had left upstairs in her room, the same [Name] he had taken with him away from the mental institute, yes, that same [Name], running toward him with horror filled eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

|When Oliver is baking from your point of view|

_Left. Take a left! We said take a left!_

        Your breath was coming in short gasps and you stumbled over nothing, grass tickling your bare feet as you ran away from the large, lumbering beast chasing you.

        When you had leapt out of the window to escape, you had never dreamed that Oliver would be housing a terrifying animal that would of had you screaming loud enough to wake the dead. Fortunately, you saved that breath for running, which was a wise idea, and may have been even wiser if you weren't so laughably out of shape.

        Fortunately fear would grant even the slowest person the strength to run a marathon. 

        Unfortunately, who knew how long that strength would last?

         _Jump the fence! Jump the fence!_

        "I can barely run! How am I supposed to climb a fence?" Your voice came out sounding like the gasp of a dying fish instead of an actual yell.

         _There is a garbage can and a cardboard box sitting next to the fence, use it to push yourself up and over._

        "Where?" 

         _Behind you._

        Your blood ran cold at the voices' words. The creature you were running from was behind you. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

        Your bare feet slipped on the grass as you turned, almost causing you to fall, but you used your hands to push yourself back up to a running position. Whatever it was that was chasing you crashed into the fence behind you. The noise frightened you and had you running like a bat out of hell toward the garbage can and cardboard boxes the voices had told you about.

        You leaped onto the cardboard box, surprised and relieved it held your weight as you used it to sloppily climb on top of the garbage can and jump over the fence. 

        As soon as your feet hit the ground you doubled over, your hands on your knees as you tried to get air back into your lungs. Once you could properly breath again you stood back up, relieved that whatever had been chasing you was stuck behind the fence.

        "Phew, I am so out of shape." you commented, rubbing your sweaty palms on the pants. "But at least I'm out of danger."

         _Don't count your chickens before they hatch._

        Anger suddenly came rushing at you at the voices' words and you clenched your teeth. "Shut up, alright." you growled, poking your forehead with a finger. "I am sick and tired of all the crap the lot of you put me through. So shut your dirty little mouths and leave me be!"

         _We told you about the boxes and garbage can, didn't we? We think you owe us some respect. We saved your life._

        "I'd be happier dead!" Almost as soon as the words had left your lips the sound of low growling reached your ears. You turned your head slowly, the arm that had been jabbing your temple falling to your side.

        Behind you the long row of wooden planks that fenced in whatever creature that had been chasing you seemed to bulge. Your eyes widened, the sound of wood splintering filling the otherwise quiet air.

        Almost too soon the fence split, leaving a ragged hole where wooden planks had once stood. The creature that had attacked you stood dead center of the jagged opening, it's dark eyes fixed on your immobile form.

        The creature was a polar bear. That much you could discern from the low lighting illuminated half of the creature's form, as it no longer stood in the shadows where its shape was a mystery.

        The bear stood still in the jagged hole it had made, as if it waited for you to make the first move.

        Your breath hitched in your throat and you took off, not caring where you were going as long as it was far away from the larger than life (and twice as ugly) polar bear.

        As you ran your eyes caught sight of a rectangle of light and you turned toward the opening. Maybe it was a door, something you could hide behind until the polar bear grew bored of waiting for you and left.

         _Not that door. Not_ that _door!_

        You ignored the words and sprinted toward the door, too panicked to notice the people in the house staring back at you.

        Upon reaching the open entrance way you leaped inside the home and quickly grabbed the edges of the door, slamming it shut behind you before bending over to catch your breath.

        Behind you the sound of the polar bear slamming into the door shook the house, causing you to jump and hide behind whatever was closest.

        Your fingers curled into the coat of the person you hid behind, catching a glimpse of their appearance as you peered past them to the door. They had short dark brown hair, their eyes hidden by sunglasses.

        "Polar bears can't break doors down, right?" you muttered, your eyes fixed on the door and the odd silence that now filled the room.

        Apparently they can, or at least this one could, since the door swung in, half off its hinges, after the polar slammed into it a second time.

        The bear's gaze settled on you, the broken door resting against the wall beside it.

        And then it charged at you.

        You leaped out from behind shade-person, trying to at least get a nice start on another run, but the polar bear crashed into you, sending you to the ground.

        And as you laid there, too surprised to get back up and start running again, the bear laid down, right on top of your legs. Your predicament now was that of an immobile female laying on her stomach atop the floor with a polar bear holding down her legs and a group of probably bewildered people staring at her.

        The problem with this? Well, you had recognized one of the people as Oliver. And you had been trying to escape from Oliver.

~*0*~ |Current Time|

 "Oliver, why is there a polar bear and a woman in your house?" Xiao asked, his golden eyes fixed on [Name] and James' pet Kuma.

        Oliver turned away from the group, trying to push aside the feeling of betrayal creeping upon him. [Name] hadn't tried to leave, had she? No, no she couldn't have. It was just a coincidence; she probably fell out the window while she was sleeping or something.

        "James!" the strawberry blonde called, switching his thoughts to how much pain [Name] must be in right now, after all, she did have a polar bear laying across her legs. "Please come downstairs."

        "Why?" James called back, sounding as if he had been trying to sleep. Oh well, no one would be sleeping until [Name] was comfortable.

        "I need you to come and bring Kuma back outside."

        There was a rustling noise followed by heavy stomping before James made himself visible at the top of the stairs.

        "How did he get in?"

        Oliver pressed his fingers together; glancing back at where [Name] lay on the floor, looking like she was having some sort of argument with her head.

        "I have no idea." Oliver replied. "But I think he was chasing [Name]."

        "This is [Name]?" Viktor commented, crouching down beside the [H/C] haired female as his fingers curled around a strand of her hair.

        "Bite his hand? Are you kidding me?" [Name] hissed, her eyes narrowing. "He could crush me!"

        Viktor's brows raised and he glanced at Oliver, who had tensed at the contact and was now glaring at the scarf wearing Russian."Is she talking to me?" he asked.

        Oliver shrugged, his eyes still narrowed at Viktor. "I didn't get a chance to check her records, but I believe she hears voices in her head. So no, I don't think she's talking to you."

        "He's not movin'." James said. Sometimes during the conversation he had walked over to where Kuma lay. Currently he was leaning against the wall, his eyes settled on Kuma and the person he lay upon. The blonde reached out a foot and prodded the polar bear, which growled and turned to grab the foot in his jaws.

        James looked up. "And I'm not losin' an arm tryin' to make him move."

        "Well, we can't just have him crushing [Name]'s legs, can we?" Oliver replied.

        "I don't see why not." Allen commented, he was beside the broken door and seemed to be trying to fix it. "It's not like the bear's tryin' to eat her or somethin'. Besides, she broke the door."

        "Actually, it was Kuma who broke the door." Oliver said.

        "She led him here, didn't she? So she broke the door."


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm so sorry about this, poppet." Oliver apologized. He carried an armful of blankets and pillows, a contrite smile on his face as he laid down the bundle next to you. "But James tells me that Kuma gets bored with things easily, so I'm sure you'll be polar bear free in the morning!"

 

        You didn't respond. Your eyes were unfocused as you laid on the floor. Your legs had gone numb an hour ago, so you barely even registered the polar bear holding them down with his forelegs.

 

        Oliver's smile fell somewhat at your silence and he tugged at the edges of his vest. "Goodnight poppet." he murmured, turning away from you and walking toward the staircase, his head hung low.

 

        You blinked, watching the man's crestfallen form walk away from you. For some reason the sight discomforted you. "Goodnight Oliver." The words slipped from your lips and you turned away from the blonde, instead choosing to pull one of the blankets he had laid down over yourself.

 

        From the corner of your eye you saw Oliver pause at your words and you snuggled deeper into the blanket's warm fabric, trying to fall back into the silent, uneventful atmosphere that had enveloped you after Egil had left, and before Oliver had arrived.

 

        For a moment the room was quiet, and you pictured Oliver was staring at your curled form, before the sound of creaking steps told that he had started his journey to the second floor.

 

        You released a breath you hadn't known you had been holding, and slowly turned so that you were laying on your side, your stomach paining you as you had laid on it. The bear holding your legs down grunted and the paws laying on your legs shifted somewhat, but other than that the polar bear was unmoving.

 

        You sighed and closed your eyes, finding relief in the darkness they offered.

 

~*0*~

 

We cannot believe you are going through with this.

 

         _You smiled victoriously as you skipped down the street, earning odd glances from the people you passed. Ah well, it didn't matter. You were checking yourself in today, which meant soon you would never have to see these judgemental people again. "Oh, you better believe it." you said._  


 

        This is a bad idea, you know.

 

         _"Pssh. Like I'm going to listen to you."_  


 

        You should. We only want what's best for you.

 

         _As you skipped down the streets the scene changed, to that of you sitting with a pleasant smile on the empty cot you had been assigned._  


 

         _This changed, however, when you caught sight of your roommate._  


 

        This is bad. This is very bad.

 

         _He had silver hair and his right eye was covered with a black eyepatch. He seemed to be in a state of badly suppressed anger._  


 

        Why did they room you with one of them?!

 

~*0*~

 

When you awoke, from a dream that had been made entirely out of a series of memories strung together, you saw that you were the only one currently awake.

 

        The polar's forelegs were still stretched across your calves, its head resting atop its paws as it continued to sleep. From your position you saw sunlight creeping up the floor, the tallest rays blanketed over you.

 

        You yawned and sat up, trying your very hardest not to disturb the slumbering, carnivorous beast sleeping on your legs. However, this was all for not, for the polar bear raised its head and yawned, one of its eyes popping open to stare at you.

 

        The polar bear turned its head, its gaze locked on yours as it slowly rose to its feet. Your heart lept in your throat at its movements and you silently hoped that what Oliver had said was true, and that the polar bear was simply becoming bored with you and was heading off to play with something else.

 

        This was not the case, however, as the polar bear slowly moved towards your sitting form. You smiled uneasily and you slowly raised your hands in a show of peace. "Hey there, Kuma." you said, your voice soft and shaking with each of the bear's pawstep. "That's your name, right?"

 

        The polar nodded its head, but didn't stop its clear efforts to move closer to you. "Well then, Kuma, would you mind, I don't know. Taking a few very large steps back?" you asked. The polar bear's snout was now only a few inches from your face, its dark eyes wide and curious as it stared at you. "How about all the way out the door? Does that sound like a good distance?"


	9. Chapter 9

Polar bears are dangerous creatures. They could tear you apart, and if hungry, have you for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

        But all this was seemed to want to do was show you around the home, pointing out things with a paw or nod in their direction. Kuma was like some sort of illiterate tour guide.

         _This here is the front door. And back here we have the back door, oh look, there's a tree. This is the kitchen. This is the refrigerator, and that's the oven. Right here are the stairs; your room is somewhere up there._ He seemed to say with each nod and jab in the general direction of a certain object. 

        Another noteworthy position you had found yourself in was the fact that you were now riding the polar bear; much like someone may ride a horse, or any other hoofed animal. The arrangement was somewhat uncomfortable, as Kuma's spine was digging into your tailbone, but other than that, it was rather enjoyable, for how many can say they rode a polar bear?

        You were jerked from your thoughts when you heard your tour guide grunt loudly. You blinked and turned your attention back to the polar bear, a thin shard of fear lodging itself in the back of your brain as you wondered what Kuma would do to you.

        But Kuma merely snorted when he had gained your attention and proceeded to continue his slow tour of the house.

        It was going to be a long morning.


	10. Chapter 10

The sun was taking its sweet time to rise in the sky, and with Kuma having finished his informative tour of the house a few minutes ago, the polar bear let you slide off his back before sitting himself down beside you on the floor.

        You were stuck with nothing to do and nowhere to go (because escaping might have been a wonderful idea, if the polar bear, whom you were still slightly uneasy around, wasn’t sitting next to you running his tongue over his sharp teeth).

        Beside you Kuma deemed his teeth clean and closed his mouth, his eyes focused on the stairway.

        He slowly raised a fore-leg and placed it around your shoulders. You stiffened at the contact, but made no move to fight him as he dragged you closer to his warm, furry body, or when he rested his head atop yours, his dark eyes still focused on the stairway.

        You followed his gaze, and heard the creaking sound of floorboards as weight was pressed on them. Curiosity drowned out your fear, brought on by  ~~the freaking polar bear that decided to get all touchy feely~~  Kuma’s presence, and you waited silently to see who, or what it was that was sneaking around upstairs.

        A loud slam, followed by someone angrily shouting “Allen!” answered your curiosity, and you watched with wide eyes as a grinning brunette leapt off of the stairs, followed closely by a pissed blonde who had shaving cream smeared across his face and a hockey stick in his hand.

        You blinked in surprise as the blonde ran after the brunette, hockey stick in his arms and murderous intent gleaming in his eyes, before he threw the stick at the brunette, making the grinning male trip and fall down.

        Blondie then easily cornered the brunette, whom you recognized as shade-person, the guy you had hid behind the night before when Kuma had followed you into the house.

        The end seemed near for shade-person as blondie raised the hockey stick over his head, prepared to bring it down on shade-person’s skull.

        “James!”

        Oliver’s voice, loud and ear piercing, sounded from the top of the staircase. Your gaze shot to him, and you had to admit, Oliver looked terrifying when upset. His usually bright and friendly blue eyes were narrowed in burning rage, and the warm, friendly smile that was often stretched across his face was now tightlipped, the very edges of his lips pulled back to show a couple of his teeth.

        He slowly made his way down the steps, and you couldn’t help but cringe in sympathy for poor shade-person and blondie with every footstep.

        Oliver took his sweet time walking over to where blondie stood, his hockey stick no longer raised above his head. “Allen,” the strawberry blonde said, his tone saccharine sweet. “Go upstairs right now and clean up the mess you made in your brother’s room.”

        Shade-person, or Allen, got to his feet and shot another shit-eating grin blondie’s way before heading back for the staircase.

        James (A.K.A. Blondie) glared at Allen as he left before turning to Oliver with a scowl. “What was that for?” he growled. “I almost had him!”

        Oliver frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “I will not have you two acting like animals in the presence of our guest.” he chided.

        The blonde haired male snorted and rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he turned away from Oliver and stalked past you, a low growling starting in Kuma’s throat when the blond got too close.

        James didn’t glance your way as he passed by, instead he tapped the heel of his hockey stick against the ground near you. You jumped slightly at the noise, pushing yourself further against Kuma in an effort to try and get farther away from the blond. James made a noise that sounded like an amused chuckle, and in response a low growl started in Kuma’s throat, directed at the man who was walking a bit too close.

        Oliver shook his head at James’ retreating form, his arms dropping to his sides just as the man began to disappear back up the stairs. “I’m so sorry you had to see that, poppet.” the blond apologized, his smile contrite.

        “Are they always like that?” you asked, glancing back at the stairs James had been walking up a few minutes ago.

        Oliver blinked, surprised you had decided to start talking to him again. Once the strawberry blond had gotten over his initial shock he nodded his head. “Yes, unfortunately,” he replied. “Though I’m glad I was able to catch them before things could escalate—usually I’m not that quick.”

        “Anyway,” Oliver started, brushing the subject aside and leaving you wondering if what he just said meant James and Allen were people you wanted to avoid. “What would you like for breakfast, poppet?”


	11. Chapter 11

** Warning **   
_language  
someone’s gettin’ their mouth washed_

* * *

You sat beside Kuma while Oliver prepared breakfast, all the while the blond chatted away like nothing had happened between the two of you.

        Like Jenny wasn’t dead.

        Your breath hitched in your throat as the thought hit you. You had almost forgotten about what had occurred right before you awoke in Oliver’s home.

        Had they actually killed Jenny?

        You brought your hand to your mouth and shook your head. No, no they couldn’t have killed Jenny. Maybe she had just been knocked out. After all, you had only heard a thump and then silence, that didn’t mean Jenny was dead.

        Right?

        “But it turned out it was just a big misunderstanding! Can you believe that?” Oliver shook his head with a chuckle. When you didn’t respond the blond turned back to look at you. “[Name]? Are you not talking to me again?”

        You closed your eyes, still caught up in your thought about Jenny. She had been a friend to you while you had stayed at the asylum. She would always save you a seat in the group therapy sessions you shared with her, and she was only one you had confided in about the plan you and Egil had devised.

        You had even promised to come back for her…

        Beside you Kuma growled, and the noise snapped you out your thoughts. You glanced up and found Oliver crouched as close as he dared to come near you with Kuma at your side.

        “[Name]? Are you alright, poppet?”

        You stared at him. He looked genuinely concerned, his brow wrinkled and his blue eyes open. For a moment he reminded you of someone that you had trusted…someone that you had cared about, deeply.

        “The eggs are burning.” You replied.

~*0*~

When breakfast was finished, you assumed Oliver would then call everyone to the table, but he didn’t.

        Instead, he gave you your plate (He had to set it down on the floor a few feet away from you and then pushed it to you with a long stick because Kuma would get ready to attack whenever he got close), and afterward he sat down at head of the table and waited.

        You were confused at first, until you heard the thundering sound of feet against floor and both Allen and James came into view.

        The former quickly slid into his seat opposite an empty chair (you guessed the seat was James), while the latter took a bit more time to shuffle over to the other chair.

        You watched them sit down, yet, they didn’t start to eat either, despite how hungry Allen seemed to be. You wondered who they were waiting for.

        If you remembered correctly, from what you had seen of the room when you had tried to escape from Kuma, there were only five people, Oliver, Allen, James, scarf guy (whom you had been advised to bite), and scarf guy’s friend.

        Maybe they were waiting for scarf guy and his friend.

        Actually, speaking of scarf guy and his friend, what had happened to those two after you had gone to sleep? You remember seeing nothing of them after Kuma had sat on you, and they hadn’t appeared earlier when James had nearly crushed Allen’s skull with his hockey stick.

        You opened your mouth to ask Oliver, when the slow sound of someone else making their way down the stairs caused you to snap it shut.

        A man with dirty, shaggy blonde hair arrived in the kitchen. He had dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin, and his eyes held nothing but indifference.

        You watched as the newcomer shuffled over to the kitchen table, much like James had, and practically fell into his chair.

        “Ah, François! How kind of you to join us this morning!” Oliver chirped brightly. “François” merely grunted in reply before taking a long swig of…wine? He was having alcohol for breakfast? That couldn’t be healthy.

        But no one at the table made a comment about François’ peculiar meal choice. It seemed François’ eating habits were a normal thing for them.

        “You took your sweet time,” Allen commented from his seat at the table, a glob of grits held up in his spoon.

        François turned his gaze to the brunette, and from what you could see of his face, he looked indifferent. “Would you have liked it better if I had not come to breakfast?” he asked, his tone even.

        “Why not, it wouldn’t’ve made a difference anyway.” Allen replied, his tone growing bitter.

        At the other end of the table, Oliver and James watched the two’s exchange of words with different expressions. Oliver looked uneasy and slightly horrified, while James’ face was a mask of indifference.

        “So you do not want me at the table?” François prodded. “I can leave, if my presence bothers you that much.”

        Oliver held his hands up in an effort to try and stop the conversation before it escalated. “Now, now, you don’t have to leave, François! I’m sure Allen didn’t mean anything he—”

        “Sure, go ahead,” Allen replied, meeting François’ gaze. “It won’t be the first time you don’t eat at the table with us.”

        At this, James, who had been quietly drinking coffee throughout the conversation, paused with the cup tilted back to sip to look at François. The blond’s face still radiated neutrality, though his eyes said something different.

        Now, with everyone’s eyes on François, you almost thought he wasn’t going to leave, because although Allen had hinted at not wanting him to eat at the table with them, it seemed that secretly he wanted François to stay.

        But that would’ve been too easy.

        François got up slowly, the chair creaking loudly at the disappearance of the man’s weight, grabbed the bottle of wine he had been drinking, and shuffled back the way he had come.

        You watched the man go, curious about the relationship he shared with the other male’s at the kitchen table. But, as it wasn’t really any of your business, you went back to eating your breakfast.

        “Good goin’, fuckface,” James piped up when François was gone. “You deserve a fuckin’ award.”

        “No cursing, James,” Oliver warned.

        Though this was your first time meeting these people, you had a good idea about what was going to happen. After all, you used to know people like the individuals whose company you were in. Your oldest sister had been like Allen; never thinking about the consequences of her actions.

        You wondered what had happened to her.

        You heard the sharp sound of a chair scraping against wood, followed by shouting and then finally the jarring noise of a door being slammed. The sequence of sounds brought you out of your thoughts and you looked up to see that only James and Oliver were left at the kitchen table.

        “I’m goin’ out back.” James muttered after a second of uncomfortable, awkward silence. He walked out of the kitchen (at some point he had started standing) but paused for a moment to look at Kuma. When the polar bear didn’t move from his seat James snorted and continued on his way.

        After James disappeared from the room you heard the sound of a door closing none too gently.

        You looked back at Oliver, who was now alone at the kitchen table. The strawberry blond sat amidst half-finished plates of breakfast, his gaze downcast. He sighed after a moment, and you felt yourself pitying him. He looked so lonely, the only person sitting at a table that was meant to hold four.

        You wondered if every morning was like this for him, where he would make breakfast and have, just for a moment, a full table, before someone ruins it and he is left alone again.

        You felt sorry for him, almost guilty, even, though why you knew not. It wasn’t like you could’ve stopped the fight; you didn’t know these people, and you highly doubted they would’ve been okay with an outsider trying to get in their business.

        Despite your better judgement you forced yourself to get up and walk over to him, your plate still warm in your hands. Kuma padded after you, confusion and curiosity swimming in his dark eyes.

        “Can I sit here?” You asked Oliver, pointing to the seat that François had abandoned.

        A look of surprise flashed across Oliver’s face and he scrambled for a reply. “W-Why yes, of course!” He sputtered, moving plates and silverware so that you had room to eat. “Sit wherever you like.”

        You sat down in François’ seat, Kuma laying himself down at your feet. Oliver stared expectantly at you after you sat down, the silence that stretched between you uncomfortable and awkward.

        You swallowed thickly and tried for an ice breaker. “So…how ‘bout them sports teams?”

        Oliver continued to stare at you, the uncomfortable silence coming back full force until the man broke out into a fit of laughter.

        You didn’t see what was so funny, but the strawberry blond’s laughter was so infectious you found yourself chuckling as well. After the both of you had finished laughing topics of conversation came easier and you found yourself freely talking with the man you had earlier tried to run from.

        Maybe Oliver wasn’t as bad as you thought.


	12. Chapter 12

When breakfast was over you went back to sitting in your little corner of the house with Kuma. You watched Oliver wash dishes and put the two uneaten plates of breakfast away. You wondered why he saved the plates, but then surmised that Allen and James were probably going to eat them later.

“You could still smell the burned rubber for about a day or two before it finally cleared up.” Oliver chatted as he scrubbed the plates the two of you had eaten off of clean. You had asked him if you lend a hand, but he declined, saying that you were his guest and that he didn’t need any help.

“Oh wow, that sucks.” You replied as you smoothed down the hair between Kuma’s ears. The polar bear had rested his onto your lap when you sat down, and out of reflex you had started to pet Kuma, and now you were too afraid to stop. “Did you have to throw away the cup too?”

Oliver put the last cleaned plate in the dish rack to dry and moved on to the pots, pans, and utensils he had used to cook. “Of course!” He replied, scrubbing away at the leftover egg in one of the pans. “It wouldn’t be very useful anymore—all the rubber had melted off!”

You looked down at Kuma and noticed that his eyes were closed. You, thinking he was asleep, let out a sigh of relief at the sight and stopped your petting, but once you did so one of the polar bear’s dark eyes cracked open and focused on you.

The polar bear drew his lips back and bared his sharp teeth at you. You quickly went back to petting at the action and once you did so Kuma closed his eyes again.

“I see,” you said, scratching Kuma behind the ear. “My sister did that once, but with tin foil.” You stared down at the polar bear warily as you continued to pet him. “It lit on fire.”

Oliver placed a pan in the dish rack and glanced back at you. “Did you put it out?”

You parted your jaws to answer, a sarcastic reply on the tip of your tongue, but you quickly swallowed the remark and went for a more straightforward statement. “Yeah, my aunt did.”

Kuma rolled over so that his throat and lower jaw were now exposed, and, taking the hint, you began smoothing down the fur on his neck.

“Huh, it seems Kuma’s taken a real liking to you.” Oliver commented, his blue eyes taking in the sight of you petting the terrifying polar bear. “Won’t James be surprised!” Oliver chuckled. “He’s got competition!”

Though you don’t think Oliver meant to discomfort you, you found yourself growing uneasy as his words sunk in.

You didn’t want to compete with any of the people in this house, especially the blond who had been ready to crack open Allen’s skull. Would he be prepared to do the same to you when he found out you were on Kuma’s good side?

You shuddered at the thought of your skull cracking. Having your brain visible for the world to see was not something you wanted happening. Your brain was supposed to stay _inside_ your body, not out.

“Who says he’s got competition?” You said with an uneasy smile. “Not me, I certainly don’t.” You pressed your hands against Kuma’s shoulders, ready to push him off, but a growl from the polar quickly had you retracting your arms. “Kuma is James’ for taking.”

Oliver dried his hands on a white dish cloth and turned back to look at you, an expression of confusion on his face. “But he really likes you.”

“Pssh,” you waved a hand. “No he doesn’t, see?” Despite your better judgement you stopped petting Kuma and held your hands up.

_Screw better judgement_ , you thought. _I need to prove a point._

Surprisingly, however, Kuma did not growl or even move. He continued to lay there quietly, his head in your lap and his forepaws tucked against his chest.

“All I see is a polar bear who really likes [Name],” Oliver said, turning back to the dishes.

You stared down at Kuma, a look of surprise on your face. The polar bear opened his eyes and stared up at you, and you could’ve sworn you saw what looked to be amusement swimming in his dark gaze.

If polar bears could smirk, this one would.

Your jaw dropped in amazement. _You sly little—_

“Did I tell you about the time I mistook salt for sugar?” Oliver piped up, interrupting your thoughts and tearing your gaze away from the amused polar bear whose head was in your lap. “Well, I didn’t actually mistake salt for sugar—I would never do that. Allen switched the sugar for salt the same day I was making cupcakes and he…”

As Oliver continued on with his story you glanced back down at Kuma, your [E/C] eyes narrowing with distaste at the polar bear.

Kuma stared back at you and lifted a paw, which he pressed against your cheek. His claws dug into your skin as he turned your face away, amusement still bright in his eyes.

_I will get you back for your betrayal, Kuma,_ you thought, turning your attention back to Oliver as he recounted his tale of using salt in cupcakes instead of sugar.

* * *

 

**don't put tin foil or rubber in the microwave, kids. burned rubber is not a good smell, trust me.**


End file.
